


birthday

by thestarsaregivenonceonly



Category: Timothée Chalamet - Fandom, chalamet, tchalamet, timothee
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Sex, Blurb, F/M, Happy Birthday, Smut, blurb request, happy birthday timothee chalamet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 01:37:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17033916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsaregivenonceonly/pseuds/thestarsaregivenonceonly
Summary: It's Timothée's birthday, but he would rather give than receive.





	birthday

**Author's Note:**

> request for Lexie

“You never want to do anything exciting. I don’t know why she is surprised.” You scratched your nose and answered a text as he got out of the taxi. He laughed and held his hand out to help you exit. You adjusted the deep red dress that hugged your hips and fluffed your hair, walking into the apartment building in step with him. The straps on your shoulders were secure, and you felt sexy for the first time in a while. It was a feeling you allowed yourself to embrace. His eyes were all over your legs. 

“Well clearly you know me better than she does,” he muttered, and you put your hand gently on the back of his neck to reassure him. Across the lobby together, your heels clicking softly. Standing with him in the elevator, you rubbed his neck until his shoulders lowered. His eyes roamed your face, something he did often when in search of comfort. 

“She’s just excited. We don’t get you to ourselves often enough, Timmy.” It was rare of him to accept the compliment, but he did. He smiled, tugging you closer and placing an affectionate kiss to your temple. 

Best friend. Best friend. Best friend. 

Your mind screamed and waved, but it was easy to ignore when he was this close. He smelled lovely, and he lingered as the last few floors passed. His hand rested on the small of your back. You turned your head into his neck and exhaled, leaning into him. An unspoken moment passed between you, and any doubts you had were gone. Your hip pressed briefly against the hard bulge in his pants as you passed him to exit the elevator. He cleared his throat and followed, and you felt his eyes burn through your back as you moved to stand in front of the door to his family’s spacious apartment. 

How did we get here? You remembered holding him when he had cried over that French girl, the one you hadn’t known well. You remembered sleeping at his different residences year after year, less as his fame grew. The most recent years were tense, but in a safe and playful way. He held you often. He watched you even more. Pauline was the first one to see it, but she was discreet. 

Nicole opened the door and squealed, tugging her boy into the space and fawning over him for the next two hours. She asked many questions, she fixed his hair, and he was patient and loving with her. You spoke to Pauline about her career, watching him slowly pile on a few glasses of scotch. He wasn’t drunk, but he was happy and loose. You all sang to him, and he laughed like a young boy as he blew out the candles. 

There was a remaining dusting of snow on the sidewalks as you trudged back to his apartment, carrying leftover cake. He was relaxed and free, and seeing him be so at ease was the most amazing thing you could imagine. You had arrived that day and planned to stay a few nights, sleeping on his couch. He wanted a snack when you returned to his modest apartment, and popcorn began to pop loudly in the microwave. Timothée poured you both small shots of scotch, laughing when you coughed and sputtered as it went down. The popcorn was hot, and you caught seven pieces in your mouth while he only caught five. He insisted that it was because he had had more scotch than you, and then ate his words as you downed three shots in a row without flinching. The alcohol made you giggle and sway, and somewhere along the line you were both on his couch singing Travis Scott and trying to hydrate with bottles of water. The shots overpowered the water, though. He kept touching your arm, your shoulder, your leg. 

“My mom nearly shit herself when she saw you wearing the necklace she got you,” he said, the slur in his voice making you laugh into your hand. He fingered the gold chain lightly, lifting the giraffe charm and looking at it for a moment. When it fell back against your skin it felt heavier than before.

“Does she know I never take it off?” You met his gaze, and his smile widened. He was infectious and addictive. 

“I told her, but I don’t know if she believed me.” He shrugged out of his jacket, stretching his fingers and keeping his eyes on you. He looked like he was laughing at a private joke. 

“She’s too good to me,” you whispered, holding the giraffe between your thumb and middle finger and watching him get comfortable. He slid his belt off, looking outside at the sleet that was beginning to fall hard and fast. Your legs curled underneath your body, and you both instinctively leaned toward each other. It was a habit of comfort from being friends for so long, but God you were dying to crawl into his lap. 

“Only a few more minutes until your birthday, dear.” You checked your phone, confirming that it was almost midnight. He downed more scotch and nodded, but he was elsewhere. You gave him the space to get there himself, but his eyes betrayed him. He seemed to forget how well you knew him. 

“I’m gonna tell you this before I lose my balls and back out again. The first time I ever thought about kissing you was on my seventeenth birthday. It was totally out of the blue, and it was because you borrowed my chapstick. I watched you put it on. I’ve thought of little else since.” 

Everything was still. He twirled the glass in his fingers, the remaining drops hurrying to keep up. You wondered how long he had been waiting to say this, but you couldn’t speak. He was only pleasantly drunk, but enough that you knew he hadn’t planned on telling you. 

“Is that weird for you to hear?” He turned to look at you, his eyes wide with fear. 

You shook your head slowly, moving to sit closer to him. He fidgeted and set down his glass, wanting to touch you but not knowing how. 

“Why are you telling me now?” Your hand found his thigh, and he swallowed hard. You were sitting almost completely against him, and his eyes were on your mouth. He knew he was going to get what he wanted.

“My sister kicked my ass,” Tim said, meaning for the statement to be humorous. Neither of you laughed. His eyes were pleading with you, and you didn’t want to drag the moment out. Your hand found the side of his face, and you kissed him with a slow curiosity. He was so familiar, but your senses were experiencing him differently. He smiled and moved at your pace, but you could sense him holding back. You craved more, and he tasted so good. Your fingers moved slowly through his hair, and you raised your body up to a kneeling position. With your head above him now, you had to push him backwards into the couch as you kissed him. He made a low sound and slid his hands along your thigh, finding the hem of your dress and tugging on it gently.

Several minutes passed as you got familiar with one another, and his movements became more and more confident. The first time his hands found the fabric of your panties over your ass, you whined into his lips and made him laugh blissfully. It was unbelievable, how amazing it was to kiss him. Your own confidence began to grow as you felt him harden underneath you. 

“Can I take your dress off?” His hand had already found the zipper, but he didn’t move until you nodded wordlessly, still kissing him with little control. He had to gently break apart from you to stand you up, sliding the dress down off your body. His lips found your stomach, moving upward slowly.

“You want to know what would be the best birthday gift you could possibly give me, little lady?” Tim spoke into the skin between your breasts, and you leaned your head back and laughed. The sleet outside was heavy and wet, making the window shake. Seeing it made your body feel hotter and hotter, and you held your hair up off your neck as he finally allowed himself to place his palms under your panties and flat against your naked ass. Breath whistled from your throat, and you tugged on his hair until he lifted his face to kiss you again. 

“Tell me.” You bit on his bottom lip lightly and tugged, giggling when he groaned. 

“I want to make you come.” 

Your body stilled, and his arms tightened around your waist securely. Knowing it was useless to try to hide your face from him, you closed your eyes and rolled your neck. He watched you think without blinking, waiting for an answer. 

“Why do you think you can?” Your words were barely audible. You had dated two people before, messed around with a handful of others, and it seemed rather difficult for anyone but you, yourself, to make you have an orgasm. Of course he knew that. Close friends know that kind of stuff. You had vented about it to him many times before. What had he been thinking about, all of those times?

Timmy’s mouth found your neck, and he lowered you onto your back without a sound. It was strange to trust someone so wholly. He kissed the entirety of your stomach, making you moan and bite your lip. Confident fingers slid your panties down, dropping them and leaving them on the floor. 

“I know you differently than they do.” He spoke clearly, and your eyes snapped open to find him. He was between your legs, gazing up at you with dark eyes, and he looked... competitive. “Show me how you do it.”

In the past, you had imagined that someone would eventually ask you to do this. It made sense. They wouldn’t be able to make you come without knowing how. Show me how, teach me. You had always imagined that you would hesitate, perhaps refuse. Instead, it was so... effortless. 

Your hand moved easily between your legs, and he watched in fascination as your fingertips searched for the sweet spot. Ah, yes... there it is. Your back arched, and you tensed the muscles around your hips and down your legs as your hand worked the spot vigorously. It was somewhat exhausting, but sometimes the climax was easy to chase. When you wanted it the most. 

“Move your hand,” he grunted, and you almost didn’t listen. The rhythm you had found was electric and luscious. Realizing he would have to intervene, he gently pushed your wrist aside and wrapped his lips around your clit. They were soft and tentative, but he was hungry. His tongue traveled along your wetness, and a low growl escaped from his gut. Allowing himself a moment to take it in, his mouth eventually left your body. Collapsing backwards, only a moment passed before he was kissing you again. His hand pressed securely between your legs, making you gasp harshly into his mouth. 

“I wanted to know what you tasted like first,” Timothée mumbled against your lips, smiling with a hint of victory. His hand began to move rapidly up and down, and your legs started to shake. “Tell me what to do, baby.” 

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, and he allowed you to guide his movements. Faster, faster. Harder. Both of you were gasping for air, but he was going to send you over the edge and into oblivion. He whispered encouragements into your ear, and the last few moments were agonizing bliss. It tore through your body, and all you could do was scream his name and watch the stars explode. 

“That’s my girl,” he cooed, giving the ending seconds a pleasant ring. Your throat was dying for air. You had never breathed so hard before, and you felt certain that your ribs would ache the next day. Every bone in your body was a million pounds. 

So this was what it was to be desired. To know that someone wanted to give you this satisfaction. And it was his fucking birthday. 

He was glowing like a million suns. Oh so proud of himself. You laughed and kissed him, and his hands were in your hair. You rolled on top of him, adjusting the red bra strap that had slid down one shoulder. He was only wearing his boxers, but then, abracadabra, he was wearing them no more. Now your hands were in his hair, his arms were around your waist, and he was smiling as he kissed you. You had seen him kiss others before, and often wondered if he would kiss you the same way. It was open and deep, and you could tell that he was pouring everything that he could into it. All of him, and you wanted every bit. No sharing, give it all to me and no one else. 

“Happy... birthday... to you...” your voice was raspy, but you spoke rather than sang the words. You kissed the skin under his ear after the first word, and worked your way down his jaw between the rest. He sat back against the back of the couch and tugged you closer into his lap. You continued to recite the song, and Tim’s long fingers began to guide your hips closer to his. He was getting impatient, and you were thriving off of it. 

“What do you want, birthday boy?” Your voice was velvet, and if the boy could have physically fallen to his knees he would have. 

His eyes were piercing and bright, and he took a deep, long breath. You kissed him softly and sweetly, encouraging him to answer the question. His fingers skillfully unhooked your bra and threw it before tangling into your hair again. Your arms hooked around him hard, and feeling your bodies pressed together was intoxicating. He kissed you playfully, but what he wanted was in his eyes. 

“I’m in love with you.” He said it so easily, so calmly. Your body stilled entirely, every inch of you staring at him. He repeated it over and over again, running with the match and lighting every single bomb and firework that you were made of. 

Your words mirrored his as you lowered onto him, closing your eyes and inhaling sharply as he filled you. I’m in love with you, too, I’m in love with you. You said it back every time. He cursed under his breath and took your chin between his fingers, clenching his jaw and staring into your eyes.

“Look at me,” he was making a demand, not a request. You gripped his neck and held the top of his arm, keeping his gaze as you began to rock your hips back and forth. His eye twitched, and both almost closed multiple times as your body sped up. Eventually you were the one who broke the gaze to let your head drop backwards, both of your arms gripping his shoulders hard. He was close, he was everywhere, but he was also far away as he repeated your name over and over again into your neck. Your thrusts were hard and fast, and the endless moans coming from his lips were swallowed by yours. You hadn’t considered until then how much you would want to make him come. When it finally happened, he squeezed his eyes shut and grunted so loudly that it echoed off the walls. The grunt became a lasting groan that faded to whimpering breaths. The air seemed to cling to your body.

When it was over, neither one of you moved. The only exception was for him to bury his face into your neck and squeeze you so tightly that you could barely breathe. You lightly kissed his temple, humming and tracing your fingers up and down his back. His lips explored your neck lazily as time crawled by, and he couldn’t stop saying that he loved you.


End file.
